


Your Choice, Pet

by InuShiek



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Chastity Device, Collars, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, In Public, M/M, NSFW, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Play, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Situational Humiliation, Slash, Sticky, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InuShiek/pseuds/InuShiek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet and Optimus Prime have the unfortunate responsibility to always be prepared to respond to a Decepticon attack, so they have to find other ways to unwind besides overcharging. Optimus has the chance to surrender his obligations for a short while, and Ratchet gets the opportunity to take care of someone who is in no danger. Ratchet is even training his pet to play in public.</p><p>(this will stand alone as a ficlet, but I DO want to write more on it, thus it's labeled as unfinished)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't be so Tense

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this post [here](http://nsfw-squid-in-disguise.tumblr.com/post/124883329589/bots-with-chastity-belts-bots-with-panels-that)\- "Bots with chastity belts. Bots with panels that are locked, except when unlocked by someone with the key. Bots that are edged for hours but not allowed to do anything about it. Bots with chastity belts that are very visible, so that everyone knows. Bots with hidden belts so hat no one can tell why they’re so distracted."
> 
> This got my mind running away from me again with bots who can't open their panels without permission from their dominant partners, and here we are OTL

This is entirely inappropriate.

And unprofessional.

And-

And-

And _delightful_.

“Ratchet, please.”

Ratchet smirks behind his cube of energon as Optimus Prime quivers in his seat. Neither of them can really afford to drink high grade. They’re necessary if there is a Decepticon attack, so they’ve found other ways to unwind. “You know that it’s good for you to make an appearance at a party every now and then. Relax. We can’t have you looking so _tense_.”

Optimus gasps quietly when the last word is punctuated with an increase of the vibrations in his valve. His faceplates heat up behind his mask, and once again he’s reminded that he’s got streaks of Ratchet’s dried transfluid on his face.

This wouldn’t be so torturous if his valve had something to clench on. Instead, he’s just got a small toy magnetized firmly to his ceiling node that Ratchet controls. Even if his panel weren’t locked shut, there is no way to remove the toy without Ratchet’s permission.

Not that Optimus can start digging around in his valve in the middle of the rec room while surrounded by his Autobots anyway. The fact that most of them are a bit overcharged doesn’t mean that they wouldn’t notice that.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispers, servos firmly grasping the table they’re seated at.

The medic takes another slow sip of his energon before he answers, “Either you overload right here at this table, or you stay locked another month. Your choice, pet.”

Optimus shivers, groaning at the impossible choice. He’s already on month four of having his array locked away. The only time it’s opened is when Ratchet briefly opens his panel to clean the equipment of the copious fluids that the Prime can’t help but produce with his denial.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Ratchet continues as he watches Sideswipe drag an unwilling Prowl to the dance floor. “I’ll be overloading in you either way. I like your throat just as much as your valve.”

He groans again, louder this time, as his valve’s calipers cycle uselessly.

“You know that, don’t you? That I really don’t care what part of you that I use? My pleasure is what matters, after all. Isn’t that right?”

“Y-Yes, Ratchet. Sir. May I overload?”

“Are you sure, pet? We could always go back to my quarters instead. I’m sure you have the resolve to hold still while I thrust my spike between your thighs and rub across your panel the whole time, right?”

“ _Please, Sir_ ,” Optimus whines as his hips begin twitching against his will as he’s desperately trying to deny himself his overload.

Ratchet leans back in his seat with a casual sigh. “Or I guess we could have a repeat of this morning. I enjoy knowing that you’ve had my transfluid on your faceplates all day.”

“Sir, please let me overload. Please. Right here. With everyone here. _Please_. What do you want me to say? _Sir, please,_ ” he begs, getting desperate.

“Oh, if you insist. We’ll go to my quarters and play once you can walk again. Overload, pet.”

Optimus clenches his denta tightly to keep himself quiet as he offlines his optics, throws his helm back, and finally allows his overload to crash through his circuitry.

“Goooood,” Ratchet purrs lecherously behind his cube of energon as the Prime attempt to compose himself. His digits are digging into the tabletop and his vents are roaring, but aside from the toss of his helm, he’d been remarkably still through the whole thing. Ratchet’s optics scan the crowd, and no one is staring or giving any indication that they’d so much as looked at Optimus, much less realized what was happening. Mercifully, Ratchet ends the vibrations.

Panting heavily, Optimus retakes a more casual posture in an effort to keep suspicions down. “Th-Thank you, sir,” he forces out, still gasping for cooler air.

Ratchet is patient while he finishes drinking his cube of energon, but it becomes apparent that Optimus isn’t going to continue. “That’s not all you have to say, pet. Go on.”

Optimus groans, shuddering as his valve flutters in an aftershock. “Thank you for the privilege of being allowed to overload, sir.”

“Better. Go to my quarters. I’ll be along in a while.”

Steeling himself, Optimus heaves himself to his pedes. He’s a bit unsteady at first, but he disguises it well. With nods to the handful of mechs who acknowledge him as he passes, Optimus makes his way out into the much quieter hallway. He finally allows his vents to run at full blast before he continues his journey through the _Ark_ until he reaches the CMO’s quarters.

Once there, he gratefully sinks down onto his knees almost before the door closes. He crawls over to the berth and turns to face the door before he kneels. With a little rummaging through his subspace, Optimus finds his collar and cradles it on his upturned palms as he focuses his gaze on the floor just in front of his knees.

All he has to do now is wait for Ratchet.


	2. What a Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet makes it to his quarters, and now it's time to reward Optimus for his public overload.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!!! I didn't let this die!!!! woooo!!!
> 
> and yes, before you wonder, I have more PLANNED. Gosh I hope i write more. I really want to

Optimus nearly jumps when the door finally slides open to admit Ratchet. He’d lost track of time, letting his mind wander while he waited kneeling. His legs ache, and he knows that they’re going to sting uncomfortably when Ratchet asks him to move, but that doesn’t matter now. All that matters is Ratchet’s approving hum while he pats the Prime’s helm.

“Good pet,” he praises as he takes the collar. Ratchet takes a moment to inspect it, just as he always does. It’s thick, heavy, and very soft through continued use. Even though it has some wrinkles in the material now, it’s still as strong as the day he’d had it made. Satisfied, Ratchet wraps it around his pet’s throat and secures it with a lock.

At the distinct click, Optimus shivers as the weight settles around his neck. Wearing his collar means that there are different rules in play, and they happen to be some of his favorites. Ratchet taps the center of his mask, and Optimus immediately retracts it to reveal his messy faceplates.

Ratchet chuckles when the Prime immediately begins to blush and fidget slightly, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he leaves his pet kneeling there as he crosses the room to retrieve his bowl.

Optimus squirms when he sees it, and his engine revs even as his HUD pings at him that his energon levels could use a top-off. He waits patiently as Ratchet pours a cube of energon into his bowl before placing it on the floor. Through repeated conditioning, his valve begins to produce copious amounts of lubricant. Ratchet always makes him refuel while being edged. It’s the best (and worst) part of his meals.

“Wait,” Ratchet says, knowing exactly what he’s doing to his pet. He takes a seat in his chair in the small seating area of his quarters and pulls out a data pad with a medical report on it. It’s one of Swoop’s, and the Dinobot has been asking for feedback on it. He’s been getting better with grammar and spelling- much better than his speech patterns would indicate- but Swoop still wants to improve, and he trusts Ratchet to give him honest feedback.

A quiet whine from across the room has him hiding his smirk behind the data pad. “Alright, you can have it, pet,” he finally allows, and he watches Optimus eagerly crawl across the room to his bowl, drop to his elbows, and begin excitedly lapping and slurping at his energon. Without warning, Ratchet sets the toy locked in his pet’s valve to vibrating randomly. It’s a setting of his own design that is never quite enough to work a bot up to overload.

Optimus cries out as his valve clenches. It’s still overly sensitive after his first overload in months, and he can’t help but buck his hips in an attempt to find more stimulation. Still, he knows better than to stop drinking, so he focuses on cleaning his energon from the bowl.

Ratchet keeps an eye on Optimus as he continues reading Swoop’s report. It had been a simple repair for the medic-in-training to perform, just a smattering of dents across Smokescreen’s frame. The Datsun had thought he could take a curve on a makeshift racetrack much faster, but had failed to take into account the lack of purchase ones tires can find on dirt. Smokescreen had gone tumbling, but had escaped any serious injury. Honestly, the worst damage was to his ego, so Swoop had eagerly volunteered to do all the work himself.

Optimus sobs when the toy shuts off just before he could overload, and he’s struggling to remain in position so he can finish refueling. As it is, his faceplates dip just far enough downward to contact his energon, and he whines as the energon rehydrated Ratchet’s transfluid that was still on his face from earlier this morning. After a brief, vain attempt to lick the sticky mess away, the mech resigns himself to quickly finishing his energon.

“Almost done, pet,” Ratchet encourages him. He’s tempted to increase the intensity of the vibrations, but he knows that Optimus is nearly overloading as it is.

Optimus hurries to lick the last few drops of energon out of his bowl, and he leans back to make sure that it’s completely clean before he nudges it away.

“Finished?”

Optimus groans, pressing his face to the floor as another near-overload taunts him before retreating, and he looks pleadingly up at Ratchet. “Yes, sir,” he pants, uncaring that his hips are twitching in the air needily.

Ratchet tuts, putting away his data pad. “What a mess you’ve made. Clean it up, pet,” he says pointing at the floor. He sees the brief confusion on his pet’s face before it dawns on him.

Faceplates heating, Optimus pushes himself back up onto his elbows, and he sees the smear of energon and transfluid that his face left on the floor. Without hesitation, he sets himself to work, licking the floor just as clean as his bowl. He sees Ratchet rise from his chair and leave from the corner of his optics, and he whines. He doesn’t stop in his task, but his mind begins spinning as to exactly what he could have done to make Ratchet leave him without a word-

“Well done, pet. Sit up,” Ratchet says, retaking his seat now that he’s returned and Optimus has the floor spotless.

Optimus scrambles up onto his knees and he shuffles up to kneel between the medic’s pedes. The vibrator has his charge nearly peaking again, and he dimly registers a chuckle as his optics flicker and his frame jerks with the aborted charge release. Optimus manages to get his optics back online just as a leash is clipped onto his collar.

Smirking, Ratchet purposefully leaves the toy activated as he brings the damp cloth up to his pet’s faceplates. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?”

Trying to relax, Optimus does his best to ignore the way his valve is clenching desperately at nothing. Ratchet begins gently wiping his faceplates clean, and he moans both at the soothing feeling and the vibrator beginning its cycle again.

“Is something the matter?” Ratchet asks innocently.

Optimus groans and dares to bring a servo up to gently paw at Ratchet’s own heated panel. The cloth is tossed away now that he’s clean, and his engine revs excitedly when Ratchet’s spike is revealed to him.

“Wait,” Ratchet orders sharply when his pet almost dives for his spike. Once Optimus is obediently settled, Ratchet opens the box on the end table to retrieve a small energon candy.

Knowing what to do but still impatient and beyond revved up, Optimus tilts his helm back even as he whines plaintively. The treat is carefully balanced atop his nasal ridge, and Optimus is hard-pressed to keep it there when his hips insists on twitching in desperation.

Ratchet smiles now, beyond pleased at how hard his pet is trying to please him. As a reward, he lowers the intensity of the toy that’s locked in his pet’s valve, and Optimus moans in gratitude as balancing the treat becomes much easier for him. Ratchet begins lazily stroking his spike, knowing that his pet can see it. “I’m tempted to unlock your panel tonight, pet. After so long of only being filled by your own fluids, your valve will be nice and tight for me, won’t it?”

“Y-Yes, sir. _Please,_ sir. Let me-“

“Shh, I haven’t given your permission to speak freely, pet. I’m considering letting your overload. You don’t want to blow your chances, do you?”

“No, sir,” Optimus whines. He knew better than to say more than “yes” and “no,” but the vibrator is driving him up the wall-

“I didn’t think so. Still, you’ve certainly lost your chance at _this_ ,” Ratchet says with a sigh before he plucks the candy off of his pet’s nose.

With a whimper, Optimus lowers his helm.

Ratchet is silent for a long while as he considers the Prime, though his servo never slows its pace on his spike. “Although I suppose….” he finally muses aloud, voice slightly strained. “Open.”

Optimus opens his mouth and extends his glossa without hesitation.

The Prime groans when, instead of Ratchet overloading on his faceplates as expected, Ratchet uses the visual stimulation to tip himself into overload, and he quickly cups his other servo in front of his spike to catch all of his transfluid. Optimus rocks on his knees, keeping his mouth open while he squirms in frustration. Taking Ratchet’s spike into his throat would have been wonderful, but instead he didn’t even get a taste of fluid and that toy is _still_ _tormenting him_.

Drool begins to trickle from his open mouth, but Optimus doesn’t dare close it to swallow. Instead, he watches with as much patience as he can manage (though he doesn’t even try to still his hips as they rock into the vibrator) while Ratchet’s vents whir noisily to cool his frame.

Eventually, Ratchet onlines his optics, and he smiles when he sees his pet obediently waiting. “Good,” he praises. His gaze turns to his messy servo. “You have a mess to clean.”

Optimus scoots toward the offered servo on his knees, and he moans happily when he’s finally able to lick Ratchet’s transfluid covered palm.


End file.
